Archives for posts with tag: sculpture

You’re Saying
by Ranney Campbell


of Sophia Stid
of all that she stated

of fear disguised as indifference

of Haight
of Still the Waiting

of future

of drive away, be driven
of never say never, never say go
because . . . it is
                                   as it once was

of I guess I’ll have to move to L.A.

of four posed questions
or, just the first two, if their answers, no,
                                        and yes

there is nothing you’re saying
there is nothing, you’re saying


I am still waiting
because there is nothing other to do

work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep
in one year, in that June, five years

the best things are those awaited
or, was it meant, the awaiting

or, was it meant,
we have all the time in the world 

IMAGE: Eclipsed Time, sculpture by Maya Lin (1989-1995).

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The reference of Sophia Stid was in regard to her work, “I Am Tired of the Movie About Sentimentalized Male Failure.”


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Ranney Campbell earned an MFA in fiction from the University of Missouri at St. Louis and her poetry has been published by Misfit Magazine, Shark Reef, Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, and others. Her chapbook, Pimp, is published by Arroyo Seco Press.

A Nano Alien Came by Stealth
by Rose Mary Boehm

Coursing through my veins
is precious, polluted red stuff,
life stuff. The stuff that can clot,
the stuff that can kill.

They say we are 80% water.
Well, we are kind of liquid. Hard
to believe. No pun intended.
I don’t flow, I traipse—from kitchen
to bathroom, to sofa to bed.

The dog yawns. And when he
doesn’t yawn, he brings me the leash.
At least I have an excuse
to walk the seashore. I see curtains
move. Someone observing us.
Once there were witch hunts.
Now, the poop police.

I am still waiting to find
my inner river, recognizing my flow,
learning to navigate the waters
of yesterday’s freedom.

PHOTO: Tiger and TurtleMagic Mountain (walking sculpture, Duisberg, Germany), photo by the author.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ON THE PHOTO: I thought this photograph was illustrative of veins and things in a crazy way.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I have just been injected with this strange stuff science’s “Eureka” moments are made of. We are all guinea pigs and grateful with it. So far I am fine and look forward to be able to travel again and—maskless—embrace my children and granddaughters. Right now, I am using my neighbour’s dog as an excuse to walk in the park by the sea. They are lending him to me for the purpose. So kind. There are moments when I think I feel the chemical in my veins, but that, of course, is my poet’s imagination at work.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Rose Mary Boehm is a German-born British national living and writing in Lima, Peru. Her poetry has been published widely, mostly in US poetry reviews (online and print). She was twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her fourth poetry collection, The Rain Girl, was published by Chaffinch Press in 2020. Visit her on her website and on youtube.

licensed ian whitworth
The Bean
by Steve Bogdaniec

Get up close and you see yourself, stretched and pulled, along with all of the other people around you. From farther back, you see a famous skyline reflected in an oddly rounded way.

But with repeated viewings, it becomes a magical mirror.

Something a little different each time.

In daylight, clouds, faces, the tan concrete tiles underfoot, and buildings can share focus. At night, the lit-up buildings and streetlights take over.

Sometimes, I’ll walk up to it with the rest of the crowd and inspect my own reflection, and others, I’ll want to ponder it from farther away.

Sometimes, its message is clear, and other times, not. Is it trying to tell me something, or am I trying to get it to tell me something?

It changes every time. But it’s always something.

PHOTO: Cloud Gate (The Bean), stainless steel sculpture by Anish Kapoor, Millennium Park Chicago. Photo by Ian Whitworth, used by permission.

Sondra and Steve at The Bean - December 2014
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Downtown Chicago didn’t need another landmark. It’s a city full of them, full of steel, of decorative and imposing and very tall buildings, of bridges dressing up an otherwise dreary river, of weird big public art instillations. But The Bean IS impressive. Its official name is Cloud Gate. But Chicagoans don’t care. It’s ours, and we’ll name it what we like. According to Chicago’s website, The Bean (Cloud Gate) is a public art structure designed by Anish Kapoor and was unveiled in 2006. It is completely rounded, curved in on itself, and is covered in polished stainless steel that creates a “mirror-like surface.” It is 66 feet long, 33 feet high, and has a 12-foot arch in the middle you can walk under and through. (The website says that arch is the “gate” part of the name. I still don’t see it.) The sculpture is located in Millennium Park, on Michigan Avenue, in the busiest part of the third biggest city in the United States.

PHOTO: The author and his wife, Sondra Malling, at The Bean — an engagement photo taken by Shad Pipes (December 2014).


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Steve Bogdaniec is a writer and teacher, currently teaching at Wright College, Chicago, Illinois. His poetry and short fiction has appeared in numerous journals, most recently in Eclectica Magazine, Silver Birch Press, and Jellyfish Review. His work can also be found in the Nancy Drew Anthology: Writing & Art Inspired by Everyone’s Favorite Female Sleuth. Check out for links to published work and updates on new stuff!

Licensed Patrick Morrissey
Let’s Hear It for the Horses
by Tricia Knoll

One million dead in the Civil War,
if you count the mules.
Which I do.

I say, blowtorch the rebel men
off their statue mounts and keep
the horses prancing on their pedestals.

They were not traitors
to their country, showed no sign
of caring who they carried,

black or white, male or
female. No one questions
their service to equality.

They did the work
they were asked to do
without a nod at glory.

Previously published in the author’s collection How I Learned To Be White. 

PHOTO: Monument to Confederate General Robert E. Lee, Charlottesville, Virginia, by Patrick Morrissey, used by permission. The photo shows an orange safety barrier erected around the monument to prevent vandalism.


EDITOR’S NOTE: In April 2017, the City Council of Charlottesville, Virginia, voted, by a margin of three to two, to remove the Robert E. Lee monument as a remnant of the city’s Confederate past and defense of slavery.  During the following months, protests erupted over the statue’s removal. On August 12, 2017, counter-protester Heather Heyer, 32, was killed and 19 others injured when a protester drove his car into a crowd that had gathered to support the monument’s elimination. Two years later, in June 2019, James Fields, 22, was sentenced to life in prison plus 419 years for the crimes. A Virginia law went into effect on July 1, 2020 giving local governments broad powers to take down war memorials. Charlottesville is now in attempting to have a judge remove a prior injunction preventing the city from taking down the statue.  As of late July 2020, the Robert E. Lee monument remains in place.

PHOTO: Virginia Senator Tim Kaine stands before a makeshift memorial for Heather Heyer, who was killed by James Fields on August 12, 2017 in a car ramming incident. (Source: Office of Senator Tim Kaine.)

licensed viacheslav nemyrivskyi

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:  I have been horse crazy since I was a child. At the age of 72, I just finished a book on the history of wild horses around the world by Dayton O. Hyde. I admire the horses who sit under the Confederate generals in statues around the country. I am glad to see the statues coming down, but I think too of the horses.

PHOTO: Woman and horse at sunset by Viacheslav Nemyrivskyi, used by permission.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Tricia Knoll’s work appears widely in journals and anthologies. Her collected books of poetry include Urban Wild (Finishing Line Press), Ocean’s Laughter (Kelsay Books), and Broadfork Farm (The Poetry Box). Her recent collection How I Learned To Be White received the 2018 Indie Book Award for Motivational Poetry. Read more of her work at Find her on Amazon and Twitter.

qing waa licensed
Statue of William Penn
by Mark Tulin

I used to wear the bronze hat
of William Penn,
the founder of Pennsylvania
who stands atop City Hall
in Philadelphia
I was the one who remembered
how things were
during the revolutionary days
when freedom was a passion
and not a personal insult
I remember what it felt like
to live in the sky,
my head in the clouds,
and look over my brothers
Although I love my place of birth,
I never want to return,
nor do I want to forget
how proudly I once stood.

PHOTO: Statue of William Penn atop City Hall in downtown Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, by Qing Waa, used by permission.

EDITOR’S NOTE: For almost 90 years, an unwritten gentlemen’s agreement forbade any building in Philadelphia from rising above the hat on the William Penn statue. This agreement ended in 1985, when final approval was given to the Liberty Place complex. Its centerpieces are two skyscrapers, One Liberty Place and Two Liberty Place, which rose well above the height of Penn’s hat. (Source: Wikipedia)


NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Until 1985, the statue of William Penn was the highest point in the city.  I could see this 37-foot bronze statue atop of Philadelphia’s City Hall from my neighborhood in the Northeast section and whenever I took the elevated train into Center City. The iconic sculpture has always been the symbol of what it meant to be a part of the Philadelphia culture. During my adolescence in the 70s, Penn’s statue was etched in my soul, representing our country’s freedom and revolutionary spirit. Since moving from Philadelphia to California approximately 10 years ago, I am reluctant to return to the City of Brotherly Love. I’ve had so many great childhood memories that I don’t want to tarnish them by returning to a place where my favorite corner stores, restaurants, and movie theaters have been replaced by structures that have very little meaning for me.  I want to keep the memory of my city of origin alive and in my heart.

PHOTO: Statue of William Penn awaiting installation at the top of Philadelphia’s City Hall in 1894. The 37-foot bronze statue, which weighs over 50,000 pounds, was designed by Alexander Milne Calder, whose namesake son and grandson also became noted sculptors.

EDITOR’S NOTE: William Penn (1644–1718) was a writer, early member of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), and founder of the Province of Pennsylvania. An early advocate of democracy and religious freedom, he was notable for his good relations and successful treaties with the Lenape Native Americans. Under his direction, the city of Philadelphia was planned and developed. Philadelphia was designed to be grid-like, with its streets easy to navigate, unlike London where Penn was from. Philadelphia streets are named with numbers and tree names. He chose to use the names of trees for the cross streets because Pennsylvania means “Penn’s Woods.” (Source: Wikipedia.)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Mark Tulin is a former therapist from Philadelphia who now lives in California. He has two poetry books, Magical Yogis and Awkward Grace. His upcoming book, The Asthmatic Kid and Other Stories is available to pre-order. Mark has been featured in Amethyst Review, Strands Publishers, Fiction on the Web, Terror House Magazine, Trembling with Fear, Life In The Time, Still Point Journal, The Writing Disorder, New Readers Magazine, among others. For more, visit his website, Crow On The Wire.

My Carving of Prillar-Guri
by G. Louis Heath

My Prillar-Guri Carving, August, 2016

Prillar-Guri, heroine of Norwegian freedom, stands on a
shelf overlooking the Gudbrandsdal Valley in my living

room. She keeps vigil over my recliner in her carved birch,
four-inch-tall likeness, dressed in a bunad, the provincial

costume, blowing her famous horn. She blew the notes in
1612 to sound the alarm that an army of Scots was invading

by stealth, a hungry, kilted cat, muscles tensed to pounce. Her
notes echo today, through valleys where freedom is in danger.

I take care to polish Prillar-Guri often, so her bright shine never
dims. Dust must never collect on her, ever. My grandparents,

emigrants from Norway, told me so, when I first learned to talk.

AUTHOR’S PHOTO CAPTION: My Prized Carving Of Prillar-Guri (August, 2016).


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  G. Louis Heath, Ph.D., Berkeley, 1969, is Professor Emeritus, Ashford University, Clinton, Iowa. His Norwegian relatives live in Trondheim, Oslo, Arendal, and on scattered farms throughout Norway. He studied in Scandinavia during the academic year, 1964-1965. His M.A. thesis is titled, “Student Unionism at the University of Uppsala.”

LimarevDavid by Michelangelo

Three poetic texts about time, beauty, but not only…
by Alexander Limarev

Part One
(Epigraph Included)

          So God created man in his own image,
           in the image of God created he him;
           male and female created he them.
                    The Holy Bible. Genesis 1:27 (King James Version)

          And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground,
           and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life;
           and man became a living soul.
                    The Holy Bible. Genesis 2:7 (King James Version)

God created man in one day.
In the image of God He created him.
We can only guess,
How aesthetically perfect
Was that man, created by God,
Before his fall, I mean.
In the Old Testament, Genesis, Chapter 1, there is a verse:

31 And God saw every thing that he had made,
and, behold, it was very good.
And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.

We believe it.
And there is nothing to be added.

As for the time, we must note,
That astronomical time of the Old Testament,
Especially concerning creation of visible world,
Does not correspond to modern time.
To sum it up:
Dust of the ground,
One day,
Perfect man.

Part Two

Times not that old.
The very beginning of XVI century.
Renaissance. Florence.
Michelangelo Buonarroti begins and,
In about four years,
Finishes his “David”.
Marble sculpture of King David of the Old Testament,
Believed to be a culmination of human genius.
To sum it up:
Four years,
Marble copy of man.

Part Three

In this case it is all too plain and trivial.
Though there is, without any doubt,
Some private pathos of this event,
Mystery of impregnation, mystery of birth,
Joy of fatherhood, joy of motherhood and stuff.
Just like it is today.
But still.
Second half of XX century.
The USSR, already not Russia.
A big industrial city…
(there can be further details to infinity).
But let’s be brief…
A boy is born in a natural way,
As hundreds of billions of men before him,
Descendants of those, Old Testament Adam and Eve,
Expelled from the Garden of Eden.
To sum it up:
A couple of heterogeneous humans,
In a natural way,
Nine months,
Not David,

Facts only, nothing personal.

PHOTO: The author in 1978.

STATUE: “David” by Michelangelo (1501–1504).

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Alexander Limarev is a freelance artist, mail art artist, poet, and curator from Russia who has participated in more than 400 international projects and exhibitions. His artworks are part of private and museum collections in 58 countries. His artworks as well as poetry have been featured in various online publications including TIME FOR A VISPO, EXPOESIA VISUAL EXPERIMENTAL #9, #10, #11, #12, THE NEW POST-LITERATE: A GALLERY OF ASEMIC WRITING, BAA:BE:L, NOTHING AND INSIGHT, FOFFOF, SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION LANGUAGE IMAGE LAB, FOOOM, POEZINE, DEGU A JOURNAL OF SIGNS #1, EXIXTERE, ffoOom #2, CHERNOVIK #27, THE WHITE RAVEN #11, UNDERGROUNDBOOKS.ORG, ŎŎŏŏŏ #1, BOEK861, TIP OF THE KNIFE #15, #17, #20, #24, BUKOWSKI ON WRY (Silver Birch Press), BUKOWSKI ERASURE POETRY ANTHOLOGY (Silver Birch Press), SELF-PORTRAIT POETRY COLLECTION (Silver Birch Press), KIOSKO (libera, skeptika, transkultura) #7, #8,MICROLIT #7, #8, METAZEN, BLACKBIRD #11, ZOOMOOZOPHONE REVIEW #1, #2, #3, #4, M58, ICONIC LIT, and SIMULACRO8.

The Fallen Caryatid Carrying her Stone circa 1880-1, cast 1950 by Auguste Rodin 1840-1917
Fallen Caryatid Carrying Her Stone
by Shari Zollinger

They think I simply bear the weight of courtyard
talk like any good girl would, with silence.
They think I don’t see them catch my
burnished body in its soft contortion
only to claim it a pose of pity.
A girl taken down by a block of stone.
I do not open my eyes. I alone
know the reason for infinite sitting.

What happens when you listen to a stone
for a bronze age? You finally make out
its language. Each weighty measure and tone
so paradoxically soft—what’s not known
is that I am poised to stand and shout
that I have found my name. That I am home.

IMAGE: “Fallen Caryatid Carrying Her Stone,” sculpture by Auguste Rodin (1840-1917).

EDITOR’S NOTE: A caryatid is a sculpted female figure serving as an architectural support, taking the place of a column or a pillar.

Bio Pic

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Native of Utah, Shari Zollinger has a BS in History from Utah State University. She spent six years living in Taiwan, part of that time spent attending the Stanford Inter-University Program for Chinese Language Studies in Taipei. Her love of language has directly inspired her work as a poet. Her poems have appeared in the Sugar House Review, Redactions: Poetry and Poetics, and The Desert Voice. She is currently working on a manuscript inspired by the works of Auguste Rodin. This poem  comes from this work.

During the Charles Bukowski’s Los Angeles Esotouric tour on July 13th (see this post), the participants heard from fellow passenger Tim Youd — a performance artist who told us about his upcoming “regional conceptualism” event: Charles Bukowski’s Post Office performance (starting July 17th in downtown Los Angeles).


WHAT TO EXPECT: Tim Youd will perform the entirety of Charles Bukowski‘s 1971 novel Post Office on an Underwood Champion typewriter in the parking lot of the Terminal Annex Post Office where Bukowski sorted mail for fourteen years.  The final day of the performance will coincide with the 2013 edition of Perform Chinatown.  For that, Youd will relocate to the Coagula Curatorial gallery in Chinatown to finish the performance.

To commemorate the performance, the Coagula Curatorial gallery has created a limited edition print of Youd’s self-portrait that depicts him reading Bukowski’s Post Office. During the performances, there will be two ways to acquire a limited edition print — via a Bukowski trivia raffle or by showing the artist a Bukowski tattoo.

WHAT: Tim Youd performs Charles Bukowski‘s Post Office on an Underwood Champion typewriter

WHERE: Terminal Annex Post Office, 900 N Alameda St, Los Angeles, CA 90012

WHEN: Wednesday, July 17th – Saturday, July 27th, 2013

TIME: 11 a.m. – 4 p.m. each day

ABOUT THE ARTIST: Fresh from his critically acclaimed typing performance of Henry Miller‘s Tropic of Capricorn at both the Pulse Art Fair and on the Brooklyn sidewalk outside of Miller’s boyhood home, Tim Youd is continuing his page-turning performances all over the country.  Dubbed “regional conceptualism,” Youd performs the works in locales geographically related to either the author’s life or the plot of the novel.  Utilizing the same make and model typewriter used by the author in its original creation, Youd types the novel on a single page run through the machine over and over.  With each exhibition, Youd also constructs a tangible visual companion piece to marry with every performance, consisting of his sculpted typewriter “portraits” as well as a self-portrait of himself reading the performed works. Upcoming performances will feature the work of Kurt Vonnegut (Indianapolis), Philip K. Dick (Santa Ana, California), and Henry Miller (Paris).